


Keep your Mahal-cursed elves at the North-Pole!

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BOFA AU, Christmas, Crack, F/F, Family, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship, Unrequited Love, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwarves, hobbits and elves have their trials and joys during the winter festivities as well.</p><p>A collection of holiday fics.</p><p>1- Schemes and Coincidences (Kíli/Ori, Balin/Dori)<br/>2- By the Fire (Belladonna/Dís)<br/>3- Who cares about the tree? (Modern AU; Belladonna/Dís; Fíli, Kíli)<br/>4- The Great Snow Ambush (Gen; Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Dís)<br/>5- The Hidden and the Embarrassing (Belladonna/Dís)<br/>6- The Difficult Choices in Life (Belladonna/Dís; Fíli, Kíli, Thorin)<br/>7- Keep your Mahal-cursed elves at the North-Pole!: (Reincarnation fic, Gen; Thorin)<br/>8- Carols and Gloves (Reincarnation fic; Arwen/Tauriel)<br/>9- Presents and Secrets (unrequited Lobelia/Belladonna)<br/>10- The Snowdwarf (Belladonna/Dís)<br/>11- Escape (modern AU; Dís/Lobelia)<br/>12- Candles in the Window (Belladonna/Dís, some Dwalin/Thorin; mentions of character death)<br/>13- Knitted Warmth (Dwalin/Ori, T for language)<br/>14- Christmas Morse (secret Dís/Tauriel, T for various unpleasantness, modern AU)<br/>15- Decorations (Thranduil and his elk, crack)<br/>16- After the Battle (Dori, Nori, Ori; fluff)<br/>17- Things look brighter in the morning (BoFA AU; Dwalin/Thorin)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Schemes and Coincidences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 1 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "mistletoe".

“Do you really have to, Dori?” Ori asked. “Nobody follows that tradition anymore. They’ll all just laugh at us.”

“Nobody will laugh at us. Keeping old traditions alive is important,” Dori replied, gripping the mass of dark green twigs a little tighter. “If you are embarrassed by me, you can always go off and make new friends. The young princes will be there, they are about your age.”

“They wouldn’t be interested in talking to me,” Ori said, trying to will the heat creeping into his ears away. He didn’t need Dori to tell him they would be there. “I’m not special enough that the princes would want to talk to me. They care about weapons and quests, not about old books and scribes.”

“Now don’t say that,” Dori admonished. “You can be more than proud of your apprenticeship. And don’t do them a disservice by making them more one dimensional than they are. Balin tells me they are fine young lads.”

Ori scoffed and they continued towards the settlement’s meeting hall in silence. Ori just hoped nobody would notice or mention Dori’s mistletoe.

 

Of course, he had no such luck. Balin greeted them with a smile that grew even wider when he saw what Dori was carrying.

“Where did you find that? I remember your aunt hanging mistletoe twigs all around Erebor when we were young. Oh, how we tried to avoid them as younglings, didn’t we?” He grinned at Dwalin and Thorin who had joined them.

Dwalin laughed and shoved an elbow into Thorin’s ribs. “Remember that one time when…”

A scowl from his king silenced him but didn’t wipe the grin off his face. Ori wondered if the old warrior showed this side of himself often when he wasn’t on the practice grounds or on guard duty.

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at Balin. Before Ori could work out why Balin suddenly seemed quite fascinated by the floor, he was distracted by the princes who had hurried over to see what was going on. Fíli nodded at Ori and Kíli gave him a brief smile before they turned their attention to their still scowling uncle and Dwalin, who gave them a conspiratorial grin.

Thorin trained his face into a slightly more neutral expression and nodded at Dori.

“It’s nice to see at least some of the old traditions being revived, even though I don’t quite understand why this set of customs is the one you chose to honour. Still, it is important…”

“What kind of tradition is this?” Kíli interrupted. Ori quickly looked away when Kíli caught his gaze and once again vowed to spend more time on the practice grounds. Perhaps if the sun gave his skin a bit more colour, the blood rushing to his ears and face would be slightly less noticeable.

Thorin’s scowl returned. “You’re still a bit too young for this particular one.”

Dwalin choked. “Really, Thorin? Back in Erebor we...”

The look Thorin sent Dwalin had Ori quailing even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Well, I suppose they are still a bit young,” Dwalin grudgingly conceded.

“But Uncle!” Kíli protested. “Please, Mister Dwalin! I killed my first goblin this year! I’m not a child anymore! If you won’t tell us...”

Fíli stomped on his foot and flashed something in Iglishmêk at him. Luckily, Thorin didn’t notice despite their lack of subtlety because the head of the Firebeard clan had arrived. Thorin excused himself to join Dís in greeting her.

Fíli and Kíli pulled Dwalin towards a corner to extract as much information from him as possible. Ori briefly contemplated joining them but then decided to spare himself the awkwardness of being the second handle on a hammer.

“Would you mind if I helped you hang the mistletoe around the room?” Balin was asking Dori. “I’m glad you managed to find some. I’ve missed sharing the good memories of Erebor and your idea has brought them back to the surface.”

“I’d be delighted,” Dori replied. “Ori, why don’t you start putting these up? Make sure that they are in good places. That doorway would be perfect, for instance, don’t you think, Balin? And do be careful that you don’t fall and hurt yourself. Do you remember the commotion my cousin Golri caused that one year, Balin? Golri wanted to put up a garland of mistletoe above the royal table and actually thought that standing on his sister’s shoulders would be a good idea. It might even have worked, if she in turn hadn’t been standing on...”

Ori resisted rolling his eyes and left Dori and Balin to their stories of Erebor. It wasn’t as if there was much he could do at the moment except to put up the smelly green things. 

 

Ori had just put his last piece of mistletoe over one of the fireplaces and added the fireplace to his list of places to avoid that evening when he heard loud whooping. Curious, he turned around to see what was going on in the centre of the quickly growing crowd.

Balin was frozen in surprise while climbing halfway onto a chair, one hand holding a dark green twig aloft. The second hand grasping the twig belonged to none other than Dori. Blushing, Ori realised, seemed to be a family trait.

“I am so sorry, Dori. I didn’t realise...” Balin started awkwardly.

“No, it was entirely my fault. I should have noticed just where the mistletoe was and moved around it accordingly. And I probably shouldn’t have brought it along in the first place...” Dori mumbled.

“There is no need to apologise for that, Dori. If I had realised straight away that hanging it a little more to the centre of the room would look more appealing...”

“Oh, just get on with it!” Dwalin growled loudly. “It’s not as if neither of you want to.”

Balin and Dori looked at each other. Balin hesitated for a moment and stepped down from the chair. There was another brief pause, then their mouths collided with such force that Ori was briefly afraid for his brother’s teeth. The crowd broke into cat-calls and whistling, but neither Balin nor Dori seemed to see any reason for ending their kiss.

Ori looked around uncomfortably. He had been vaguely aware that there were some sympathies between Dori and Balin, but he had written it off as the bond that the survivors of Erebor shared. He had certainly not expected to ever see them kiss in front of an audience, without showing the slightest inclination to stop. That was something only young dwarves did...

Ori’s eyes drifted to Kíli, who was standing between Dwalin and Fíli. As if Kíli had sensed Ori’s gaze, he looked away from Dori and Balin and grinned at Ori. Ori felt his own face slip into a ridiculously wide grin. His hands went damp. A hundred glow-worms suddenly seemed to be dancing in his stomach. And Kíli stood there, grinning back at him, as if all the reasons he shouldn’t notice Ori had never occurred to him. 

Suddenly, Ori realised just how long he had been staring at Kíli. His face glowing, he blinked and looked away. Dori and Balin had finally stopped kissing and were talking quietly with smiles on their faces while the crowd slowly dispersed. 

Ori glanced back towards Kíli, who was rubbing his chin with the back of his hand while Fíli, who looked like he had just found a vein of gold, was whispering in his ear and then burst out laughing. Kíli swatted his brother and looked back towards Ori. Both of them quickly looked away again when their eyes met.

 

Despite not feeling the least bit hungry, Ori headed towards the food table. He piled a plate with bacon, roast beef, potatoes and stew. He was relieved when a strange dwarf with a striped beard and an axe in his head gestured to the few vegetables Ori had been unable to avoid while ladling stew onto his plate. The other dwarf thumped him on the back just a little too hard to thank him.

Ori felt his appetite return as he ate and spared a moment to be glad they could have a bountiful Yule feast and not have to worry about having enough food later in winter. Ori could still remember the gnawing hunger during the years of wandering when he had been a dwarfling.

Since Ori couldn’t stick to Dori as he often did during social functions, he let himself be roped into a game of marbles with little Gimli and his sister Gerlís, despite being too old for such games. 

He was just leaving them to their own devices again and was wondering what to do next when someone barrelled into him, making him stumble several steps to the left. Ori regained his balance and looked beside him to see who had run into him. Familiar dark eyes framed with messy brown hair looked up at him.

“Sorry, I tripped,” Kíli said. “Help me up, please?” 

Ori extended his right hand just as Kíli reached for his left hand and within seconds, Ori lost his balance again, stumbled over his own legs and was on the ground beside Kíli, both of them struggling to get up. After a few moments, Ori realised that they had landed right where he had been playing marbles only a little while ago. Marbles were skidding every which way under their feet and hands. 

“Hold still!” Ori said, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “We’ll never get up this way!”

“No, I’ve almost got it!” Kíli protested, only to come crashing down again.

Finally, Kíli got to his feet and tried to pull Ori up. He only succeeded on pulling Ori a bit to the side before he stepped on another marble and landed on Ori, flailing about and rolling them over a few times. 

They stayed still for a moment, a laughing tangle of limbs. Then Kíli glanced upwards.

“Oh, look! Mistletoe!”

Ori looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, their floundering had landed them right underneath one of the twigs. 

Ori swallowed.

“Um, well, there’s not really anything else to do, is there,” Kíli said, his voice suddenly slightly higher than usual.

Ori gave the slightest of nods. He closed his eyes and their lips brushed against each other briefly. Ori blinked and looked up at Kíli.

“Alright?” Kíli asked.

Ori smiled and nodded. He closed his eyes again and suddenly, they were kissing in earnest. It was clumsy and a bit messy. Noses bumped against each other and teeth collided. There was slightly too much tongue. The way Kíli twisted his hands into Ori’s hair pinched a little. Ori wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Finally, they pulled apart, a marble rolling away from the movement.

“Um, about the collision... I may have done that on purpose,” Kíli whispered sheepishly.

Ori giggled and pulled Kíli back in for another kiss.


	2. By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís and Belladonna relax after travelling through awful weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 1 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "by the fire".

“Would you keep still?” Dís asked, shaking her head at Belladonna with fond annoyance.

“But I’m cold,” Belladonna pouted, shifting about some more on the fur they were sitting on.

“And wriggling about so much that you keep letting air in under the blanket certainly isn’t going to help,” Dís said, tugging the blanket in closer around them. Then she wrapped her arms around Belladonna to pull her closer.

“Hmm, that’s a bit better already,” Belladonna murmured. 

Dís pressed a kiss onto the light-brown hair and then yelped as Belladonna shifted again, pressing her icy feet against the dwarf’s legs.

Belladonna laughed. “It’s your fault I’m cold anyway, you know. You could at least make amends by warming my feet.”

“How on earth is this my fault?! I even warned you that I could feel the weather changing and you insisted on going on. We could just as well have stayed at that inn in Glen instead of continuing to travel towards Tighfield. Then we wouldn’t have got caught in that downpour of sleet.” 

“You should have warned me that your premonitions about the weather are actually accurate! My granny Chubb claims she can feel the weather changing in her left knee but she once predicted summer temperatures during the worst winter storm. Turns out her old tabby had dozed off on her lap. And besides, old Master Ragwort’s meat pies are the best in the entire South Farthing.”

The scents wafting from the kitchen promised that the miserable walk through the sleet and mud had been worth it, but Dís was not about to admit as much. With a little grumbling, she shifted the fur even closer to the fireplace.

“Come on, I don’t want you to catch a cold,” she said, maneuvering Belladonna into a more upright position in order to curl herself around her hobbit more tightly. 

“Mahal’s blazing forges, your feet really are icy.” She wrapped her large hands around Belladonna’s feet and began rubbing the warmth back into them.

Belladonna sighed happily and as they gazed into the flames, her feet gradually grew warmer again.

“Dís?” Belladonna asked sleepily.

“Hm?”

“Promise you’ll wake me up when our food is ready?”

“Of course, Bellna,” Dís said, trying not to laugh. 

It didn’t take long before Belladonna’s breathing turned into soft snores. Dís continued running her fingers through the curls on the now comfortably warm hobbit feet.


	3. Who cares about the tree?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, decorating with Fíli and Kíli doesn't quite go as planned (Belladonna/Dís)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 4 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "decorating".

“You need to hang them higher,” Fíli said. “Look! Everything you put up is down at the bottom.”

“I do! Look!” Kíli reached up as high as he could, hanging a garland over a branch of the Christmas tree.

“I told you! You’re too small to decorate the tree!”

“Fìli, stop it,” Dís intervened. “He can decorate the tree just as well as you. You can take the branches in the middle; he the lower ones and I’ll decorate the top. That way, the tree will have decorations everywhere.”

Her admonishment was in vain. Kíli had already burst into tears and run over to where Belladonna was sitting. He wrapped himself around her round belly as best he could, still holding the garland.

“Shh, little badger,” Belladonna stroked his hair. “You’ll be as big as he is soon.”

“When will the new baby be here, Mommy? I don’t want to be the smallest anymore.”

“Just a couple more weeks. It will seem like no time at all.”

“Is he going to miss Christmas?” Kíli asked wide-eyed.

Dís sat down on the armrest of their chair. She ruffled Kíli’s hair and then put an arm around Belladonna. With her other arm, she beckoned for Fíli to join them, but he stayed beside the tree, pouting. “I’m afraid so,” she replied.

“Oh.” Kíli chewed on his bottom lip. Then he wiped his hand across his tear-streaked face.

“Can I deroc… decrate your tummy?” He held up the garland. “I don’t want the baby to be sad because he’s missing Christmas.”

“If you think he’ll like being decorated, go ahead” Belladonna said, trying not to let her amusement show.

Kíli nodded earnestly. “Yes. If he can’t get presents yet, at least he can have it pretty.”

“That’s stupid,” Fíli said. “The baby can’t even see it. And we don’t even know it’s a boy.”

“But he’ll feel it. And Mommy says she feels it’s a boy.” Kíli stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“Kíli…” Dís said warningly.

But Kíli had already turned away, wrapping the garland around Belladonna’s belly as he hummed something that switched between sounding like Jingle Bells and We wish you a Merry Christmas.

When he had finished, he tilted his head to examine his work.

“It still looks a bit empty,” he stated and then hurried over to the carton with the decorations. He picked a few baubles and reindeer figures and carried them back to where Belladonna was sitting. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t just hang them like he could on the branches of the tree.

He turned to Dís. “Amad, can you help me? I don’t know how…”

“Sure. Watch this, we’ll do the next one together.”

Dís looped the string of the reindeer figure around the garland and then tucked the reindeer through the loop.

“See? It’s not difficult.”

She helped Kíli with the next one and soon, most of the decorations Kíli had picked were dangling from the garland around the baby bump. Kíli snuggled up to Belladonna.

“Fíli!” Dís called out to her other son. “I think Mommy could still use a bit more decorating, don’t you?”

Fíli made a noncommittal sound but craned his neck and came a step closer.

“I think we should add a second garland. Do you want another silver one like Kíli’s or a red one?” Belladonna added.

Fíli hesitated for a moment. “Red.”

“Could you get it or do you want Kíli to?” 

That did the trick. Fíli hurried over to the box and picked out the longest red garland he could find.

“Hold your hands like this,” he instructed Belladonna and then proceeded to tie her wrists together by wrapping the garland around them. Kíli watched in interest, the earlier argument forgotten.

“Maybe you should ask Mommy if she’s okay with that first?” Dís said.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, Belladonna said. “As long as someone remembers to untie me later.”

Kíli got some more decorations and began hanging them on the new garland while Fíli wrapped the garland around Belladonna and the armchair. 

“Now you are our captive!” Fíli declared. “We will keep you here until you tell us where the treasure is.”

“Look, I have a sword!” Kíli shouted, grabbing a candy cane from the tree and brandishing it like a weapon. Fíli was quick to follow and they began battling with the sweets and chasing each other around the room. 

“To the treasure!” Fíli yelled and dashed towards the door. “Whoever gets there first and defeats the dragon wins!”

“Wait for me!” Kíli shouted, following him.

“Boys! The Christmas tree! We need to finish decorating it!” Dís’ words went unheard.

She shook her head in resignation. “And you wonder why I’m still hoping it will be a sweet little girl. Are you absolutely sure it’s a boy?”

Belladonna laughed. “Your mother swears you were worse than both your brothers put together. And yes, I’m pretty sure this one is a boy. Sorry… but I’m not really sorry.” She grinned up at Dís.

Dís smacked her slightly on the arm. “You’re ridiculous if you think I really care that much about that. I’ll be perfectly happy if we have another boy.”

“I know.” Belladonna attempted to pull Dís down for a kiss, forgetting she was still tied up. Laughing, Dís leaned down instead.


	4. The Great Snow Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli get bored on a snowy day and decide to surprise their uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 4 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "snowfall".

Fíli and Kíli stared out of the window at the falling snow.

“Can we go outside?” Fíli finally asked.

“Why would you want to go outside?” Dwalin replied. “It’s comfortable in here and it’s cold outside.”

“But it’s boring!” Kíli protested. “And we want to surprise Uncle Thorin when he comes home.”

“Alright, but don’t forget to put on your cloaks and mittens,” Dís said.

They jumped up, quickly put on their warm clothes and rushed outside. Dwalin shook his head at the laughter and shouts coming in from outside.

“Let them have their fun,” Dís said softly. “They’re lucky enough that they don’t know what it’s like to be in the wild in winter with no warm home to come back to. I just hope they never have to have that experience.”

Dwalin grunted and went back to sharpening his axes.

 

After a while, the noise outside faded. Dwalin got up, put on his cloak and went to the door.

“Just checking what they are up to,” he said at the inquiring look Dís sent him.

He looked around outside when he heard giggling and a snowball hit him in the head.

Two heads popped up from behind a wall of snow as he brushed the snow off.

“We’re going to ambush Uncle Thorin! Want to join us, Mister Dwalin?” Kíli asked.

Dwalin looked at the snow structure they had built. He frowned.

“That’s not how you plan an ambush. Your uncle will know where you are and what you are planning from half a mile off.”

Fíli’s and Kíli’s faces fell. Dwalin sighed. 

“You use what is already there. Come with me. Step in my footsteps and we will make fewer tracks.”

He picked up one of the snowballs they had stacked up behind their make-shift fortress.

“Not bad. Well packed and the right size for your hands. Take some of them along, we’ll get the rest later.”

The dwarflings grinned at his praise and gathered up as many of the snowballs as they could carry. Dwalin picked up a fair amount as well and made his way up a nearby slope in a wide curve, nodding at the hidden guard post near the top.

He stopped where the hill dropped steeply down to the road, mirrored by the hill on the other side.

“Here.”

They set down their snowballs in a stack close enough to the road that hitting somebody who was travelling on the road would be easy, but concealed enough to be near invisible to the traveller. Then they returned to get the remaining snowballs. Dís had come outside as well and with her help, they carried all the remaining snowballs to their hidden spot in one trip.

“Look Amad! Uncle Thorin won’t know what hit him! He’ll think he’s being attacked by orcs!”

Dís and Dwalin exchanged looks.

“You know what?” Dís asked. “Now that you can defend this place, you could officially lay claim to it. Why don’t you make a sign to warn trespassers off?”

Fíli and Kíli nodded eagerly. “Yes! Now we can be kings of the mountain!”

“Where shall we put the sign?” Fíli asked, looking around.

“Somewhere a bit down the road,” Dís said. She led them to a place that was still overlooked by the guard post but well beyond the mountain settlement while Dwalin headed off in a different direction.

With their mother’s help, they stomped the words into the untouched snow on the road.

FILI’S AND KILI’S MOUNTAIN. TRESPASSERS WILL BE ~~ATTACKED~~ KILLED!

They traipsed back to their ambush spot, laughing and occasionally throwing snowballs at each other.

“Now we just have to wait and be quiet,” Dís said. “Thorin should be coming back from the valley village any time now, so we won’t have to wait long.”

Sure enough, Thorin soon came around the corner, humming the tune of one of the songs he liked to sing by the fireside in the evenings.

Fíli and Kíli gestured at each other excitedly, grabbing a snowball each. 

Dís held up a hand. “On the count of three,” she mouthed and they nodded.

On three, Fíli and Kíli both threw their snowballs and watched as they flew towards their uncle in a perfect curve. They burst into laughter as Thorin startled and looked around wildly, his hair and the fur of his cloak matted with snow.

He spotted them and quickly bent down to retaliate, but before he had even formed the first snowball, Fíli shrieked as he was hit by a snowball. Half a second later, Kíli also felt a cold, wet thump on his chest. Mirroring their uncle’s actions from a few moments ago, they looked around to find their attacker. 

Then they heard rumbling laughter from the bank on the opposite side of the road and Dwalin’s head popped out from behind some trees.

Fíli quickly threw a snowball at him, just as a snowball from Thorin narrowly missed Kíli. Dís lopped a snowball at her brother in defence of her sons and within seconds, snowballs were flying in all directions.

 

It was a cheerful but exhausted troop of dwarves that made their way back to the settlement some time later, occasionally stopping to throw some more snowballs at each other.

It had been a long time since she had seen her brother and kinsman so relaxed and cheerful, Dís thought as they settled down to steaming cups of tea. It was good to finally have somewhere safe and warm to live.


	5. The Hidden and the Embarrassing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best thing about family dinners? The awkward moments. (Belladonna/Dís)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 5 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "family dinner".
> 
>  
> 
> A quick quide to the characters:
> 
> Gerontius – Belladonna’s father, the Old Took; Thain
> 
> Adamanta – Belladonna’s mother
> 
> Isengrim – Belladonna’s eldest brother; later Thain
> 
> Isumbras, Hildigrim, Mirabella – more of Belladonna’s eleven siblings
> 
> Rosa – Hildigrim’s wife; born Baggins
> 
> Erling – Isengrim’s assistant, one of my OCs

Dís watched in amusement as Belladonna whirled around the room half-naked.

“Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll need a moment longer,” Belladonna said and gave Dís a distracted kiss. “Now where did I put that ribbon for Mirabella’s present?”

Dís smiled and left the room, following the noise into the dining room where most of Belladonna’s family and several family friends were already gathered.

Adamanta was hurrying about bringing dishes in from the kitchen, Isengrim and Isumbras helping her. Several of her grandchildren were skittering about on the floor.

“Everyone just take a seat! I don’t need more than two helping me, everyone else is just getting in the way,” she said.

Belladonna’s father grinned at Dís. “I hope you weren’t expecting anything quiet or elegant.”

Dís grinned back. “Don’t worry, when my cousins meet up, it looks much the same. Are you sure you don’t need another hand, Adamanta?”

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure. You just sit down and…”

She was interrupted by Belladonna’s voice shouting from the direction of the hallway. “Dís, do you know where my knickers are?”

There was a moment of silence. Gerontius raised an eyebrow, Adamanta pursed her lips. Then Mirabella began giggling. Dís wished her beard was large enough to hide the blush creeping across her face.

“Sorry Bellna, I have absolutely no idea where they are!” She called back.

“Or any idea how they could possibly gone missing, I’m sure,” Hildigrim said with a grin, which promptly earned him a light slap from his wife Rosa.

“Well, that is that, I suppose,” Gerontius said. “Anybody feel like a game of cards before we eat?”

They got out the cards and started playing. Before long, Erling, Isengrim’s assistant, presented his cards with a smug grin.

“That’s not fair!” Mirabella protested. You always win. Next time, we’ll have to make it family only.”

“Oh shush,” Isumbras said, setting the last platter on the table. “Erling is as good as family.”

Belladonna chose that moment to join them.

“So you found some knickers to put on then?” Mirabella asked her with a grin.

“Oh, shut it,” Belladonna gave her younger sister a shove and sat down. 

The cards were set aside and dishes passed around. Dís was once again reminded that if anyone was to compete against dwarves in regards to appetite and raucousness, hobbits would be worthy opponents.

 

When the meal was over, the presents unwrapped and Belladonna and Dís curled up in Belladonna’s bed, the mattress for Dís on the floor untouched, Belladonna turned to Dís.

“When do you think we should tell them about us?”

Dís laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. You may not have noticed, but I think they all knew after you asked me about the whereabouts of your knickers.”

“Did I… oh no, I just meant…” Belladonna hid her face behind her hands. “This is so embarrassing!”

Dís just laughed and pulled her closer.


	6. The Difficult Choices in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choosing sweets for the dwarflings is not as easy as it might seem. (Belladonna/Dís)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 8 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "sweets and treats".

“What about these?” Belladonna asked. “Would they be something for Kíli?”

Dís took a look and shook her head. “No, he doesn’t like most nuts. Perhaps almonds are different, but I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

“So that leaves us to choose between the candied cherries, the chocolate raisins, the white chocolates… or maybe some of these toffees… or those cinnamon cookies…”

“It’s a good thing we already got some of the striped peppermints for Fíli, or else we’d take forever to make a choice,” Dís said drily. 

“We also have an assortment,” the hobbit running the stall at the market interrupted. “If the ladies want to, you could just choose that.” He held up a large box filled with different sweets.

“I don’t know,” Dís said. “There are some with nuts and my son doesn’t really like those.”

“Maybe we could buy it, try the different types of sweets and then come back later to buy more of the ones we decide on. We can just set the others on the parlour table,” Belladonna put in. “Looking at all these sweets has made me hungry myself.” 

Dís laughed. “Alright. We’ll take it.”

 

“This one is good,” Dís said. “Try it.”

She held out a sweet for Belladonna, but Belladonna chose to kiss her instead.

“Hmm, you’re right. It’s pretty good,” she concluded, eating the one from the dwarf’s hand as well. “But I’m not quite sure if it’s better than this mint chocolate. What do you think?”

She fed one to Dís and ate another one herself, just to be sure she had remembered the taste correctly.

Dís laughed around the large mouthful of chocolate.

“Not bad at all,” she said when she had finally swallowed it. “Has either of us tried those caramels yet?”

Belladonna shook her head and both of them tried one.

“Probably not quite Kíli’s taste,” Dís proclaimed. “We should probably just finish those, as well as all the ones with nuts.”

Belladonna nodded. “There’s no use in leaving them to rot.”

 

Belladonna looked down at the last chocolate raisin and popped it into her mouth. “I never thought we’d eat all of it.…”

Dís leaned back and groaned. “No, and we probably shouldn’t have. I don’t think I want to see another piece of chocolate in my life.”

“We still have to go back and get those cherries in white chocolate we decided on and buy new peppermints for Fíli…”

“Not today,” Dís decided. “I’m not leaving this sofa again and Thorin and the boys only arrive tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time to go to the market.”

“Good idea,” Belladonna said. “I’m feeling rather stuffed as well. But you have to admit it was fun…”

“We were just like little dwarflings,” Dís laughed, then clutched her stomach. “Ow. Laughing is a bad idea.”

Belladonna couldn’t help but giggle at her expression but then grimaced herself. “I’d make us some chamomile-peppermint tea, but I really don’t want to get up.”

 

Dís had just begun to dose off when there was a knock on the door and two excited dwarflings stormed inside, followed by their uncle.

“Amad, Auntie Bellna, today I disarmed uncle Thorin! He says…” Fíli stopped short, his eyes flicking back and forth between the empty box on the table and the two women on the sofa.  
“Did you eat all the sweets you promised us?”

Kíli’s mouth also dropped open.

“I am so sorry, boys,” Dís replied, torn between amusement and guilt. “I thought you were arriving tomorrow. The market is still open, perhaps Uncle Thorin…?”

She looked at her older brother pleadingly. 

Thorin shook his head in disbelief. “Really, Dís?” He let out a rumbling laugh at the embarrassed look she gave him.

“Alright, I’ll take the little badgers to the market and buy them a _sensible_ amount of sweets. Can I get you two anything first?”

“A tea would be nice,” Belladonna said in a small voice as the dwarflings snuggled up between their mother and their honorary aunt. “The chamomile-peppermint is right at the front of the top drawer in the kitchen.”

“Seriously,” Thorin muttered under his breath as he walked towards the kitchen. “They call themselves grown women....”


	7. Keep your Mahal-cursed elves at the North-Pole!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnation fic, On a day full of almost-memories, a group of carol-singers tops it all. (Gen. Thorin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 9 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "carols".

Thorin had woken up with the feeling of having forgotten a dream. Somehow, he felt that remembering it was important, but the only thing he could recall was the clang of metal on metal. The more he tried to remember, the more he forgot. The itch of annoyance followed him around for the remaining day, until Dís dropped his nephews off in the afternoon.

“Be good and listen to Uncle Thorin,” she said, giving both of them a hug and a kiss. “Call me if anything is the matter,” she added, turning to Thorin. “I have the mobile turned on.”

“Don’t worry,” Thorin said ruffling the hair of the children hugging his legs. “This isn’t the first time I’ve baked with them. We’ll be fine.”

Dís pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek as well. “I hope so. I really have to get going if I’m to get to the theatre on time.”

 

After that, Thorin had no more time to ponder his dream.

“No, Fíli! You can’t just throw dough at your brother.”

His elder nephew smiled at him innocently. “I just wanted to give him some more so he doesn’t run out.”

Thorin gave him a stern look, but was then distracted. “Stop it, Kíli! The dough doesn’t belong in your hair! And you shouldn’t eat all of it either; you want to be able to give your Amad some biscuits for Christmas, don’t you?”

Kíli nodded and stopped eating. For a moment, all was peaceful, Fíli humming as he shaped the cookies, Kíli with his tongue between his teeth in concentration. It was strange, Thorin thought once again, that as soon as Fíli had been able to speak, he had called his mother Amad, not Mom or one of the other variations. Nobody else Thorin knew had heard or used the word before.

“Leave me alone! You can’t cut cookies out of me!” Kíli protested and shoved Fíli.

“Fíli, leave your brother alone. He’s not that tasty, believe me,” Thorin said. Fíli giggled.

“How do you know that?” Kíli asked. “You never bit me.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Thorin asked, trying to stay serious. “Didn’t you know you had a third arm before I decided to take a bite out of you midget?”

In the moment Kíli needed to understand Thorin was joking, the doorbell rang.

“Stay here and try not to break anything or kill each other,” Thorin said, wiping his hands on his apron and hurrying to the door.

 

When he opened the door, a chorus of “Jingling Bells” greeted him. He looked at the carolers. There were two middle-aged men, one blond and one dark haired. Another blond man with a striking similarity to the first one stood between two identical young men. A red-haired and a dark-haired woman shared a hideous scarf. Behind them stood a tall man with a grey beard dressed as Santa.

Thorin froze for a moment. He heard Fíli and Kíli whisper behind him and suddenly moved into action.

“Keep your Mahal-cursed elves at the North Pole!” He shouted at the grey-haired man. “I don’t those pointy-eared bastards on my doorstep!”

The group stopped singing and looked at him in astonishment. Only the old man stepped forward and thumped Thorin’s shoulder with a wide smile. “Thorin! You remember!”

Thorin took a hasty step back. “What are you talking about? How do you even know my name? Get off my doorstep and take those abominations with you! Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!”

He shut the door in the faces of the confused singers.

“Did you just send away Santa and his elves?” Kíli asked wide-eyed.

“What’s a bastard? Their ears looked perfectly normal to me. And what does ‘Mahal-cursed’ mean?” Fíli added.

Thorin drew a hand across his eyes. “There. Are. No. Such. Things. As. Elves,” he ground out.

Fíli stared at him. “But when did you learn a different language?”

“What?” Thorin replied and blinked. “Let’s just get back to baking those cookies.”

The dough landed on heads, walls and the floor as Thorin pondered. Still, he had not come to a satisfactory conclusion by the time the surviving dough had been turned into cookies and Dís came to pick up her sons.


	8. Carols and Gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol-singing turns out much more pleasant than Arwen expected it to. (Arwen/Tauriel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 9 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "Holiday music".

“He has an adopted daughter who is your age,” Elrond said. “Perhaps the two of you could be friends.”

Arwen huffed. “I’m not looking for a friend. I have enough in our town. And carol singing is childish.”

“We no longer live there,” Elrond replied. “You’ll need to find new friends here and Thranduil is an old family friend. He is making an effort to make us feel welcome here and you will not jeopardize this.”

“Fine. You can drag me along, but you can’t actually make me sing.”

 

Arwen stared at the red-haired girl standing across from her with crossed arms but a curious expression. There was a strange sense of familiarity about her, even though she had never seen her before.

“You’re Tauriel, aren’t you?”

She had intended not to speak with Thranduil’s daughter and she certainly hadn’t planned to ask the stupidest question in the world. Arwen tried not to grimace.

“And you are Arwen,” Tauriel replied, not taking her eyes off Arwen.

Arwen nodded. They stared for a bit longer.

“I hate singing,” Tauriel finally said. “But my father says it’s a tradition we should continue.”

“Me too,” Arwen agreed. “Especially when it’s always only the same old songs.”

Tauriel nodded. “Do you want to see who can come up with more dirty lyrics to the carols?”

Arwen couldn’t help but grin. “Alright.” She hesitated for a moment. “The loser buys the winner coffee?”

Mentally, she cursed herself. She did not want anything to do with this Tauriel and now she was ensuring they would get coffee together?

Tauriel stretched out her hand. “Deal.”

 

Elrond glared at his daughter when he heard the lyrics she had come up with, but Thranduil convinced him to let the teenagers have their fun. After all, Legolas, Eladan and Elrohir used every spare minute to start yet another snowball fight.

It wasn’t long before it became clear that Arwen was much better at substituting the lyrics.

“I hope you know a good place for coffee,” she told Tauriel, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “I expect the very best.”

Tauriel glanced at Arwen’s bare hands. “I think I have a better deal.” She took off her gloves. “I’ll let you use these and we’re even.”

Arwen hesitated. As cold as her hands were, she had been starting to look forward to having coffee with Tauriel.

“Go on, just take them,” Tauriel urged. “I don’t want to see you get frost burn.”

“It’s not that cold,” Arwen protested. “What about your hands?”

Tauriel shrugged. “Like you said, it’s not that cold.”

Arwen finally took the gloves. “Thank you.”

 

In the end, Arwen won by a wide margin. Her brothers and Legolas applauded and even Elrond had to smile at her gleeful victory dance. A few metres from Thranduil’s house, Tauriel pulled Arwen aside.

“How about Monday? Do you have time for coffee then?”

“But you already gave me your gloves. Your debt is paid,” Arwen protested, handing the gloves back.

“I know,” Tauriel said. “But perhaps I want to have coffee with you anyways. If that’s okay with you?”

Arwen nodded eagerly, feeling her face go warm. “I’d like that.”

“Alright, Monday it is then,” Tauriel said, giving Arwen a quick hug before walking away with a spring in her step.


	9. Presents and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes presents have to express what can't be said. (unrequited Lobelia/Belladonna)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 10 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "Secret Santa".
> 
> I'm messing about with everyone's ages a bit for this fic.  
> Character cheatsheet: Mungo is Bilbo's grandfather, Bungo his father, Bingo his uncle and Belba his aunt.

Lobelia carefully folded in the wrapping paper, making sure not to crinkle it. She had carefully printed little purple violets onto it.

She had gone through quite some effort and used all her stealth to figure out the perfect gift. Now the time to give it was drawing near.

Lobelia folded the other side of the wrapping paper and tried the ribbon around it, nudging it into place. She had spent days and days searching to find the most beautiful ribbon in the Shire. In careful calligraphy, she wrote the name on a tag and glued it to the present.

Lobelia looked at it critically. She pressed a brief kiss onto the present, then frowned and looked around surreptitiously.

Finally, Lobelia shoved it into her purse, making sure to stack several other objects over it.

 

“I’m not sure why we even do this anyway,” Lobelia complained loudly. “It’s too much effort. I think giving gifts on your birthday is more than enough.”

Otho shrank slightly beside her and she saw Bingo roll his eyes as he reached for another helping of the stew.

“I think it’s fun,” Belba protested and most of the Bagginses and in-laws nodded in agreement.

Lobelia huffed and then excused herself from the dinner table.

She quietly went into the parlour where she dug the present out of her purse and added it to the stack of presents already lying on the table. She carefully brushed away an imaginary mote of dust. Then she returned to the dining room, back to Bungo, Bilbo and all the other insufferable Bagginses.

 

Old Mungo decided that they should open the presents one after another, not all at once. So Lobelia watched in silence as the various Bagginses opened their presents. She endured watching the usurper and his son with a tight-lipped frown.

And then it was Belladonna’s turn. She admired the wrapping paper and the ribbon before carefully opening the present. Lobelia watched with bated breath. Belladonna gasped and broke into a wide smile.

“Thank you so much, whoever got me this! It is absolutely perfect!” She looked around to see if the person giving the present would reveal themselves.

Lobelia just smiled to herself and retreated a bit more into her corner.


	10. The Snowdwarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves and snowmen are not necessarily creatures of beauty... (Belladonna/Dís)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 11 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "building a snowman".

“What is that hideous creature?” Dís asked, looking at the short, lumpy-shaped snow figure Belladonna had created in front of the smial. “Is that supposed to be a snowman?”

Belladonna laughed. “Actually, it’s supposed to be a snowdwarf. You, to be exact.”

Dís squinted, then tilted her head. “Sorry, I don’t see it. And I supposed you’ll give me a carrot nose next? Oh, will the insults never end?” She clutched her hands to her heart dramatically.

Belladonna grinned. “Just wait and see.” She dashed back into the smial.

A minute later, she reemerged and added the nose.

“A turnip?! Really?”

Belladonna giggled and stuck on a large clump of moss as a beard. “It is supposed to resemble you, after all.”

With a sound of indignation, Dís began chasing her through the garden, finally tackling her in a snowdrift.

“Are you going to take that back and say my nose looks nothing like a turnip?”

Belladonna shook her head, grinning up at her. “You may be prettiest dwarf I know, but that’s what your nose looks like. Large and lumpy.”

“If you think my nose is large, you should see my cousin’s!” Dís protested.

“But I’d much rather see yours,” Belladonna said, her expression softening. “It is my favourite nose in all of Middle-Earth, after all.”

She pulled Dís down and planted a big wet kiss on said nose.


	11. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia hates Christmas. (Dís/Lobelia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 13 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "Grinch".

Lobelia booked her flight in August. That way, nobody could rope her into the festivities. No obligations, no noisy family expecting her to be cheerful, just peace and quiet and the sand beneath her feet.

Her mother still insisted on giving her a present before she left or when she got back. Everybody else had come to ignore her.

This year was different though. She had booked two seats.

“Hello dear. I got you a drink from the bar,” Dís grinned down at where Lobelia lay on a sunchair. “No relation to the date, no cinnamon and definitely no eggnog.”


	12. Candles in a window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves have a tradition of remembrance (Belladonna/Dís, Dwalin/Thorin; mentions of character death)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 14 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/) and of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompts were "midnight" and "holiday traditions".

Belladonna woke to candlelight flickering from the front room of the forge and the bed beside her empty. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. She shifted aside the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed onto the cold floor. Quietly, she made her way to the doorway where she stopped and leaned against the wooden frame.

Dís stood beside the windowsill where she had lit five candles.

“That looks lovely,” Belladonna said.

Dís did not reply. Belladonna turned her attention away from the candles and looked at Dís instead. She was standing even straighter than usual, more regal than the woman Belladonna had grown used to sharing her days and nights with. With a small start, Belladonna realized Dís was wearing the deep blue cloak with the golden patterns Belladonna had only seen once at the bottom of Dís’ trunk.

“Dís?” She asked carefully.

This time, Dís turned around. The corners of her mouth were turned upwards in a sad smile.

“It is the longest night of the year. Every year on this night, we put candles out at midnight to remember all our loved ones who have moved on to join Mahal. Long ago, we put them in niches in the wall but in our exile, we light them in our windows. The windows of Ered Luin will be filled with lights tonight and everyone will be keeping wake until dawn.”

Belladonna stepped beside Dís and looked at the candles and noticed there were runes inscribed on them. Dís followed her gaze.

“That large golden one is for my grandfather Thror, who was killed by the gates of Moria. He would have hated gold being wasted for something like a candle,” her mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a smile.

Dís nodded at the next candle, shorter than the first one and decorated with intricate patterns of grey. “For my grandmother Valdís. She was famous for her embroidery. She didn’t make it out of the mountain when the dragon came.”

Belladonna remembered what Dís had told her about that day after she had woken from a nightmare. She suppressed a shudder.

The next candle was tall and dark grey. Dís smiled sadly. “My mother Hulda. She was a shield maiden; Thorin and I inherited our unusual height from her. She died shortly before we reached the Ered Luin from an infected warg bite.”

Right beside the black candle was one in red. “This one is for my father Thráin. He was lost when he attempted to regain Erebor. Nobody knows what became of him. Thorin still refuses to put out a candle for him.”

The last candle was a spiraling beeswax candle. Dís touched it gently with one finger. “My brother Frerin. He fell in the battle of Azanulbizar.”

Belladonna thought of the deaths amongst her relatives. Even the family of the Thain led the quiet lives of ordinary people. All of them had died peacefully, often of old age. Even her sister Hildigard, whom she had never got to know, had died quietly.

Belladonna found herself blinking rapidly as she thought about the fate of Dís’ family. It would not do for her to cry when Dís bore everything so bravely.

She leaned close to Dís and waited beside her in the long hours before dawn.

 

 

There was a soft knock on the door to Dís’ chambers. Her brow creased as she went to open it.

Her surprise faded when she saw Dwalin. She once again noted that the grey in his beard was much more pronounced than a mere two years ago.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Would you mind… I thought perhaps…”

Dís drew the corners of her mouth up into the smallest of smiles. “Of course not, Dwalin. Come in.”

She knocked her head against his in the greeting of brothers. He swallowed at the gesture and looked around the room she led him into.

“In the window? But…”

“I’m not ever going to be at home again, no matter where I am,” Dís said curtly.

Dwalin nodded. “He would hate it,” he said wryly.

“Then he shouldn’t have gone off and…” Dís trailed off, choked by the sudden lump in her throat. She shook her head as Dwalin gave her a concerned look. “You can set yours up in that niche in the wall, if you like.”

Dwalin hesitated, then shook his head. He went over to the other window and took a bag from his shoulder. He paused when he saw the small green candle with engraved leaves in her window next to the dark blue and two light blue candles.

“The fourth new candle, it’s for your hobbit lass, isn’t it? Bilbo’s mother?”

Dís nodded. “Bilbo told me when I visited him on the way here. It’s time I finally started lighting Bellna a candle, after all those years I didn’t know.”

Dwalin nodded and started setting up his candles. Dís smiled when she saw the additional symbols engraved on his blue one. She drew a finger over the ones on Belladonna’s candle.

Deep inside the mountain, a gong rang to mark midnight. In silence, they lit up their candles.


	13. Knitted Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is tired of feeling cold. (Dwalin/Ori, rated T for language)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 16 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "jumpers".

Ori decided he had had enough of the Company. Sometimes, the jokes and little quips were wonderful entertainment on these long winter evenings, but lately, they were tugging on his patience more and more often. The fact that even after the battle, the food in Erebor was still rationed to make sure they did not run out of supplies before springtime made the roads easier to travel, did nothing to improve the general mood.

Just earlier that day, two warriors from the Iron Hills had almost pulled their axes against each other after one accused the other of cheating in a game of dice. Ori was sure he would do the same if he had to listen to another of Bofur’s jokes or one more story of how wonderful “little Gimli” was. For Mahal’s sake, he knew the dwarf and he was hardly that small and cuddly anymore.

So instead of reaching for the war hammer that had become his over the course of the quest, Ori got up from his seat against the wall.

“Where are you going?” Dori asked.

“I want to discover a bit more of the city,” Ori replied.

“I can come with you. Some areas are still in danger of collapsing and before we get more work crews, we won’t really be able to change that.”

“Don’t worry, Bombur pointed out which areas are unstable. I’ll stay well away from them,” Ori replied.

“Look, if this is about the jumpers…” Dori began.

“Of course not. I just want to see more of Erebor, now that we are finally here. Although some peace and quiet wouldn’t go amiss either,” Ori added, just to make sure Dori left him alone.

To his relief, that did the trick and Dori merely watched him leave.

 

 

The quiet out in the corridors did wonders to sooth Ori’s frazzled nerves and after half an hour of wandering about, he began considering returning to the hall where he had left his brothers. He did not want to worry Dori too much.

Just as he was about to turn into the corridor that would take him back to the hall, Ori heard pacing and muffled grumbling. Becoming curious, he knocked quietly on the door the sounds were coming from.

“What is it?” Dwalin’s unfriendly growl came from the other side of the door.

“I wanted to see what’s wrong,” Ori replied, sticking his head through the doorway.

“Oh. It’s you,” Dwalin said, his grim expression lightening somewhat. His arms remained crossed in front of him, his hands balled into fists. He began pacing again.

“Sick of spending all day around the others as well?” Ori asked, closing the door behind him.

Dwalin grunted in agreement. “And wherever you go to spend some time alone, it’s so damn cold it would freeze the balls right off an orc.”

“You’d think Erebor would have a proper heating system,” Ori agreed, now recognizing Dwalin’s stance as an attempt to stay warm.

“It does,” Dwalin grimaced. “The builders say the chimneys of the great furnaces need to be repaired first and they won’t do it without some kind of special mud from the Anduin. Bunch of elf shit, if you ask me. Just cut down some of those stinking Mirkwood trees and start the fires. Those furnaces survived a fucking dragon, they’ll burn another winter without some river slime.”

“Oh. But if they say it isn’t safe, there isn’t much we can do about it, is there? Not until all the snow from that last storm melts,” Ori shrugged.

Dwalin stopped pacing again and stared at Ori. “Didn’t you buy enough wool to fool an entire pack of wargs before the weather turned bad? Could you knit me something?”

Ori hesitated, shifting his hand in his pockets and frowning.

“Sorry,” Dwalin said, seeing his discomfort. “You probably had something else planned with it.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just that… well, I should warn you that apparently, my jumpers are ‘so hideously ugly that not even a goblin would use them to wipe its arse’, as Bofur so eloquently put it. Of course, nobody wanted me to make them one after he had described the one I made Dori for last Durin’s day in such a praising way. So you probably don’t really want one either. I suppose when spring comes, I can still sell the wool I don’t need for the jumper Dori asked me for in order to console me,” Ori said, more bitterness bleeding into his voice than he had intended.

Dwalin’s expression changed to stone. “That chalk brain dared to insult your craft? There were times when he could have lost his tongue for such an offence!”

“It was all meant in good fun,” Ori quickly assured him. “And knitting isn’t really my craft, writing is.”

Dwalin gave a scornful snort but relaxed slightly. “He’d better not do so again. And I still want that jumper.”

“Really, I can completely understand if you don’t want one, you don’t need to make me feel better. I only decided to take up knitting as a way to pass time anyway.”

Dwalin growled. “Do you want me to turn to ice so that gnarled little Stiffbeard Dain calls his best advisor can carve me into one of his perverted ice statues? I want that jumper. That is, if you’ll make it for me.”

Ori gave a tentative smile. “Well, if you really want one… I do have a nice dark green and a neutral grey I could use, so that it won’t be ‘so garishly coloured that even an elf would mistake it for a flower and try to eat it’.”

“I’ll take the green as well as that bright yellow I saw when you bought the wool. I have enough plain clothes; I want something nice now that we’re in Erebor.”

 

 

In the end, Dwalin also chose some light purple wool to go with the green and the yellow when they returned to the heated hall. Ori sat closely beside Dwalin to get even more warmth and began knitting.

There were a few jokes and laughs when the others saw what Ori was doing and his colour-choices, but one withering glare from Dwalin silenced them immediately. Dwalin watched in silence as the jumper took shape.

On the second evening spent knitting Dwalin’s jumper, Bofur came up to them.

“I’m really sorry, Ori. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I just meant it as a joke, you know, but I guess I crossed a line again without meaning to.”

“I know,” Ori replied. “It’s alright, but I would appreciate if you don’t comment on my jumpers anymore.”

“Of course,” Bofur nodded earnestly. “And I really am sorry.”

He shuffled away, Dwalin’s glare still on him.

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Ori quietly said to Dwalin.

“Hrmph. He should have come here and apologized on his own,” Dwalin said.

“He probably really didn’t realise, you know what he’s like. But thank you.”

“I don’t let people hurt the ones I care about.”

Ori felt his face start glowing.

 

 

A few evenings later, the jumper was finished.

“I really hope it fits,” Ori said, handing it over to Dwalin. “It probably ought to, after all, I took special care when measuring you, but if it doesn’t, I could try to...”

Dwalin tugged it over his head in one smooth movement. “It fits. Thank you.”

Ori skittered around Dwalin, straightening the jumper here and there. “Oh, that’s good. I hope you like it and it’s warm enough. It probably should be, it was the warmest wool the merchant had. It’s almost a miracle that warehouse survived Smaug’s attack.”

Suddenly, Ori found himself pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s perfect,” Dwalin said after a long moment, releasing Ori. He hesitated briefly. “It might even be warm enough for a walk through that damn snow tomorrow. Do you want to join me?”

Behind Dwalin, Balin raised an eyebrow.

Ori nodded eagerly and blushed from head to toe. 

“I’d love to!”


	14. Christmas Morse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís comes up with another way of communication (Dís/Tauriel, T, modern AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU in which elves and dwarves still exist.   
> Contains mentions of prejudices, family difficulties and threats of violence against animals.
> 
> Written for day 16 of [femslashyuletide](http://femslashyuletide.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "Christmas lights".

‘Morse,’ Dís thought as Thorin ranted about elves. ‘Morse could work.’

She glanced around the table. Her grandfather was glaring vacantly at his peas, her grandmother giving him worried looks. Her father looked like he was about to launch into a rant of his own while her mother ladled another spoonful of gravy over her mashed potatoes. Frerin was looking at his food with a love-struck gaze and if Dís hadn’t been as angry at the rest of her family, she would have laughed at the way Frerin saw his new girlfriend in everything.

Their family wasn’t too happy about Frerin’s girlfriend, but at least she was just from the wrong kind of dwarvish family, old members of the Eregion club, too friendly towards elves.

“It’s just a matter of time before the trees they planted send their roots through the sidewalk and nobody will be able to walk there properly anymore,” Thrain had started his rant, this time focussing on the favourite topic of his disdain against elves, their neighbours the Greenwoods. “And the seeds will sprout all across our lawn, completely ruining it.”

Dís resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Nothing she could say would make any difference anyway. Then she briefly wondered if the trees would be a problem for her plan.

‘No,’ she decided. ‘Still too small.’

Hopefully, by the time they were large enough to be an obstacle, she would be far away. Wonderfully, utterly free to do as she wished and love who she did.

 

 

Finally, they had finished dinner. Dís quickly helped stack the dishes and carry them back to the kitchen.

“I’m going out with the dog,” she told her mother, grabbing her coat and the leash. “Here, Smaug! Time for walkies!”

She groaned when Smaug trotted over to her, one of her grandmother’s brand new shoes hanging from his mouth in tatters. “Bad dog! No chewing, I told you!”

Her grandfather emerged from the dining room door and glared at Smaug. Smaug glared back.

“You should just have that monster put down,” Thror spat. “We can’t afford the things he keeps destroying and his food is too expensive as well.”

Dís pulled he remains of the shoe from Smaug’s mouth and held it towards her grandfather. “Real crocodile leather, with leaf gold.” She gestured at his watch. “Solid gold as well. You can replace these things as soon as he destroys them and you know he only steals golden things, so novel idea: you could simply buy things without gold. In short: You can’t tell me we can’t afford his food.”

She almost felt bad for her grandfather as he struggled for words.

“We’re turning you into mincemeat one day,” Thror finally growled at Smaug and Dís immediately stopped feeling guilty.

She realised Smaug was staring at Thror’s watch. Quickly, she clicked the leash onto his collar before things could escalate.

“We’re off. See you later!”

“Don’t be too long!” Thrain yelled from the dining room.

Dís let out a deep breath as the door clicked into place behind her. They set off down the garden path at a leisurely pace. As Smaug sniffed at some bushes, Dís took the opportunity to pull out her notepad and scribble a quick note on it.

_Do you know morse? Nobody notices flashing Christmas lights._

_D. <3_

She tore the sheet out of the notepad and folded it up as she opened the gate and followed the sidewalk towards the Greenwoods’ property. In passing, she stuffed it into the special crevice in the wall.

Dís glanced over at the brightly lit windows of the Greenwoods’s living room. She had been inside it once, when only Tauriel had been at home. Too much wooden decor and flourishes, but the couch had been comfortable and the make-out session spectacular. She grinned at the memory of how Tauriel had smuggled her out of the window of the wine cellar when her mother and step-father had returned early.

 

 

Later that evening, Dís sat in her room looking out of her window when a new set of Christmas lights started shining in Tauriel’s room. Then, they began flashing.

Four short. One short. One short, one long and two short. Again. Three long.

HELLO.

Dís grinned and reached for the switch of her own Christmas lights.


	15. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and his elk. Crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 17 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "decorations".

“There, that’s a good elk,” Thranduil stroked his pet’s head. “Now hold still and let me just…”

“Adar, what are you doing?” Legolas asked from the door, staring at his father in disbelief.

“Nothing really, just giving Daeraras some attention,” Thranduil replied, quickly shoving his hands into his pockets. “He must feel lonely out here when I’m not out in the forest that often.”

“Are those garlands and tinsel you are holding?” Legolas asked, stepping closer and craning his neck in order to get a better look.

“Um… no. Well, maybe. I wanted to put it up in the throne hall later. Nothing to do with Daeraras here!” He waved his hand in the general direction of the elk, swinging the decorations about.

“You were planning to decorate your elk, weren’t you?” Legolas said disbelievingly.

“I… well…” Thranduil shuffled his feet, and suddenly seemed entirely intrigued by his elk’s hooves. “It just felt strange to decorate my throne and leave Daeraras bare.”

Legolas stared at his father. Daeraras simply began chomping on one of the leaf garlands.


	16. After the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori comes home to find things different to what he had expected. (Dori, Ori, Nori; fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 23 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "snowball fight".

Dori frowned at the sight of the trampled snow around the small house at the edge of the settlement. There were great piles of snow stacked up opposite each other and clumps of it stuck to the sides of the house. It was not like Ori to get up to such nonsense as snowball fights, thankfully. Dori did not want his little brother to risk losing an eye to a piece of ice accidentally stuck in a snowball or slipping and breaking his bones. So why did everything look like a huge snowball fight had taken place?

He went to the door. Unlocked. His puzzlement turned to worry. Ori knew better. What if something had happened? Had Ori been injured and only barely managed to drag himself into the house? Had there been an attack?

Bracing himself, Dori reached for the broom he kept next to the door, ready to attack anybody who might have harmed his brother. There was a fire crackling in the hearth. Dori hoped it was a good sign and cautiously began to cross the kitchen. He almost slipped on the drenched floor, flailing to regain his balance. He tried to avoid making splashing noises as he crossed the puddles. At the door to the small living room, there was a pile of soaked clothing.

Dori inched the door open and peaking inside. All tension fell from him. His little dwarfling was fast asleep on the sofa, curled around his older brother. Nori’s usually so well-groomed hair had come apart into an untidy mess. He had his arm wrapped protectively around Ori and was snoring gently, guard down now that he was home from his travels again. Both of them were smiling in their sleep.

For a long moment, Dori simply stood in the door and watched them. Warmth spread through him despite his cold feet. Then, quietly, he leaned the broom against the wall and went over to them.

Oh, Nori would get a scolding alright, but that could wait until he woke up. Gently, Dori tucked the blanket in more closely around them. Smiling, he pressed a kiss onto each of his brothers’ foreheads.


	17. Things look brighter in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning not too long after the BoFA (Dwalin/Thorin; AU; T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: serious injury/illness and near-misses, even though everybody lives.
> 
> Written for day 24 of [Hobbit Advent](http://hobbitadvent.tumblr.com/). The prompt was "morning".

A beam of sunlight tickled Dwalin’s nose. He stretched, confused at first that he was feeling warm and comfortable. He needed a few moments to comprehend why he was in a soft bed instead of on the cold ground with a make-shift bedroll.

The scent of salves hung in the air, almost drowning out the still ever-present smell of dragon-smoke. Dwalin rolled over carefully to see if Thorin had woken up yet.

 

He had been reluctant to sleep in the same bed as Thorin so soon after the battle, afraid to accidentally jostle him during the night or keep him awake with his snores.

“Don’t be daft,” Thorin had smiled at him weakly, his eyes shiny with fever. “That never bothered me. You sleep as still as a stone.” He had paused, exhausted from the few words already. Finally he had continued in almost a whisper, “Having you here calms me, helps me sleep.”

If that hadn’t settled it, Oin’s words when he took Dwalin to the side had. “It might be a good idea. I won’t be far, but… it won’t hurt to have somebody even closer, just in case…”

After that, there had been no question. Dwalin had crawled into the large bed that had been set up for Thorin in the mountain, keeping track of every breath, every little movement and groan of pain. Even though Thorin’s breathing had stayed even, Dwalin had been determined to stay awake lest he slept too deeply to notice Thorin’s condition taking a turn for the worse. As it turned out, Dwalin’s exhaustion after the battle had been stronger.

He had woken when Thorin started shaking with fever that first morning. He had called Oin, who had cleaned Thorin’s wounds again and ordered to keep Thorin warm. Dwalin had crawled closer to Thorin under the heap of blankets that had been added, careful not to disturb his injuries as he tried to warm him.

Since then, Dwalin had spent his nights sleeping in Thorin’s sickbed, sometimes frantically calling for Oin, other times waking Thorin from his fevered nightmares and calming him down, trying to keep his own nightmares quiet. The first few days had been awful and filled with constant worry, but at last, Thorin’s fever had gone down and his wounds had finally begun to heal.

 

Dwalin looked over at Thorin and was greeted by a warm smile.

“Good morning.”

Dwalin smiled back, relief flooding through him at how well Thorin looked. “It is, isn’t it? How are you feeling?”

“Finally truly awake, which is a pleasant change.” The slight grimace as Thorin shifted told Dwalin that the pain still wasn’t gone yet. “I still want to kill the orcs who did this to me all over again, just slowly this time to see them suffer.”

“Aye, Oin shifted you to less strong pain medication yesterday. If it gets too bad, you can switch back for a few more days.”

“Don’t you dare. The pain won’t kill me and I like being to see things without a thick layer of cotton between me and the world.”

Dwalin tried not to twitch. He couldn’t quite stomach offhand comments about Thorin dying yet. He shifted closer to Thorin. “I think I prefer you like this as well.”

Thorin grinned in a way that Dwalin hadn’t seen in far too long. “Oh, do you now?”

His good arm reached out and tugged Dwalin closer by his beard.

“Thorin…”

“Don’t tell me you have forgotten how to kiss since the battle.” Thorin gave Dwalin’s beard another slight tug and Dwalin obliged, gently kissing Thorin, the angle slightly awkward in order to avoid causing Thorin more pain.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Thorin teased in the way he only did behind closed doors. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

Dwalin felt a lump rising in his throat and suddenly found himself blinking rapidly.

“Dwalin?” Thorin asked uncertainly.

“I… I thought…” Dwalin turned his back to Thorin and covered his face with a hand before he could see the tears spill over.

Thorin’s hand settled on Dwalin’s back, gently stroking it.

“I promise I won’t. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Dwalin choked out, his back shaking with silent sobs. Thorin continued running his hand over his back in soothing circles.

After what seemed like ages, Dwalin felt his breathing calming down. He scrubbed a hand across his face and after a few more moments, turned back towards Thorin.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to…”

Thorin shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

He scrutinized Dwalin for a moment, then pulled him close again, curling his hand around the nape of his neck.

“But…”

“I don’t mind that you’re leaky,” Thorin grinned at Dwalin and, before Dwalin could protest against Thorin’s words, kissed him.

The kiss was less cautious than the previous one but no less tender. Dwalin settled himself in a comfortable position beside Thorin and for a long time, they merely kept exchanging kisses.

The gentle reassurance and warmth of Thorin beside him slowly made Dwalin relax completely. The golden sunlight drifting in through the windows and the leisurely way in which Thorin ran his hand across Dwalin’s neck, back and shoulders soon had him feeling drowsy. He sighed contentedly as he let Thorin take complete control of the kissing.

He felt Thorin’s grin beneath his lips and suddenly, Thorin’s hands wandered down his lower back over his bottom and his thighs, near-lifelong experience telling him just where to let them linger and tease.

Dwalin bit back a groan. “Will. You. Stop. That.” He ground out, opening his eyes to glare at Thorin.

Thorin’s blue eyes watched him with amusement. “I can’t have you falling asleep now, can I? Not on such a morning and when you still have to tell me about the things that have happened since the battle. I only remember things through a haze.”

“And you couldn’t think of another way to do that than trying to get me riled up when we can’t do anything?” Dwalin scowled at the contemplative look on Thorin’s face. “No, we’re not discussing things we could still do even while you’re injured. I’m not risking anything with you like this.”

“Fine. Of course I could have thought of other ways to keep you awake, but this was the most entertaining one. And I wanted to know if perhaps my charm on you had faded.”

Dwalin chuckled and gave Thorin another kiss. “Never, you daft dwarf. Never.”


End file.
